Teetotally Surprised

This isn't exactly related to Paris or veganism, but the last 31 days of not drinking have certainly been an adventure.

I embarked on this intentional dry spell for a few reasons, beginning with willpower. Do I possess any? I've been able to dig in and move past some other toughies over the years--a wicked nicotine addiction lasting more than a decade being the biggie. But--as anyone who knows me well will attest--I LOVE drinking. More specifically, I love the taste of a good red wine (or white. or rose. sparkling or not.).

I also adore the relaxing effects that alcohol delivers. Another thing most close friends and family know about me is that I'm an anxiety case. It's gotten better over the years, and I've never had to rely on pharmaceuticals to see me through it--because why should I? I've got booze! Alcohol really worked for me on that level, but deep down, I've always felt there were probably healthier ways to deal with those worrisome feelings.

And finally, I've really been wanting to take control of my health, but just have't been able to lately. I've gained a few pounds (five, to be precise) since moving to France, and it's really eroded my confidence as it relates to body image. And I've also experienced bouts of acne in the last  few years that I suspect are hormonal, but knowing that the liver helps regulate hormones, I wondered if a taxed organ might be impeding my body's ability to heal itself.

The experience was wonderful and weird and interesting. I expected to have wine cravings, but I really didn't. I did end up craving sugar, which is what our bodies convert alcohol into, so that made sense. I ate chocolate for breakfast probably 25 out of the past 31 days. But not before downing a glass of lemon water, followed by another glass of water with a dropperful of milk thistle, a powerful herb that supports liver health.

The hardest part of living "clean and slobber" (as my old friend Chris from my SF/SPCA days would quip) was the social aspect. Attending events where the wine was flowing and not engaging in the liquid experience was so overwhelmingly incongruous to my normal habits that my brain didn't know how to handle it. It sometimes felt like I was having an out of body experience, watching a tray of Champagne flutes float by and saying "non, merci."

Mostly, I said "no" to social engagements--especially parties or gatherings at old watering holes. I just didn't think it would be fun without booze, which got me wondering: Is going to bars and cafes just a big waste of time?

Three weeks in and feeling good!

Unexpectedly, my anxiety actually seemed to decrease without alcohol in the picture. I don't know what that's all about exactly--especially considering I would often drink coffee in those moments when I'd normally order un verre de vin rouge--but I welcomed it. And I didn't have problems sleeping like I thought I might. In fact, I slept really, really well, nearly every night.

On a purely superficial level, the best part about my month-long booze fast is that my skin really looks a lot better. More hydrated. Less acne. Less redness. Just better. And while I can't say for sure, I think I've lost weight. I'm really happy about that.

Another surprise is that I didn't really feel any different, physically. Not really any increased energy or anything like that. I don't know what I was expecting, but it seemed a little strange that besides clearer skin and possible weight loss, there were no real physical effects. I asked Jeff if I seemed any different, personality wise, as a drinker vs. non-drinker, and he said no. OK. Interesting!

Today is Chinese New Year. I'm having friends over for dinner and I may or may not have a drink. I love the thought of moderation, of not being dependent on anyone or any thing, and also of letting go of things that don't serve me well. I hope that it's not a slippery slope, and that an evening of social drinking won't "undo" the nice changes that have transpired in the last month. It's the year of the horse, and in the spirit of holiday, I'm charging forward at a good gallop, bringing good habits with me into the new year.

Cafe Pinson 2 Takes Flight

Press night at Cafe Pinson 2, from the outside looking in

Pinson means "finch" en francais, so when I say another organic, plant-based restaurant has gotten its wings, I almost mean it literally. Cafe Pinson 1 opened just about a year ago in the Northern Marais and was successful enough that the team behind the 99-percent vegan cafe invested in a second location.

The ardoise

The new spot--which oozes a more rustic and homey vibe that its predecessor--sits on rue du Faubourg Poissoniere in an area fast becoming a vegan vortex; within a five-block radius, there are roughly six veg(etari)an dining spots to choose from, offering everything from meatless burgers to organic raw food. 

On a dark and damp Wednesday night, I set out to meet up with good friend Terresa from La Cucina di Terresa for the cafe's inaugural press event. Terresa was already engaged in friendly banter with co-owner Damian when I arrived, but soon we were ensconsed on a comfy settee where we sipped, nibbled, and schmoozed our way to a better understanding of the Cafe Pinson experience.

The best chef in Paris, Terresa Murphy, lifts un verre of bio bubbly

The crudite tray, wtih curried dipping sauce

More crudite. When are those sweet potato dumplings coming around?!

Little verrines of creamy vegetable soup were also passed round.

I spotted--and resisted temptation to dig into--a jar of pickled asparagus on a shelf.

Natural wines are an exciting addition to the menu, which also includes such tempting delicacies as beet and parsnip veloute; potato and spinach cakes with kale pesto; pumpkin-mushroom risotto; and lemon tiramisu. Detox juices and retox swills (hello, coffee!) are also on tap.

Cafe Pinson co-founder Agathe giving Parisian "smile."

The DJ was almost upstaged by the vegetable platter.

Mama Mia!

Fellow passengers on the ferry ride over from Naples.

Colorful caftans for sale at Citara spaggia (beach).

Yummy-looking, non-vegan sweets that were the local speciality.

The trip to Ischia was booked on a whim. It seemed like a nice alternative to its more glamorous sister island, Capri, and offered the added perk of thermal springs and lighter crowds. Beaches, too, were a big selling point (I swear I'll stop talking about sun, sea, and sand soon), but Italy wouldn't be nearly so tempting were it not for its most celebrated contribution to global culinary culture: Pizza. The combination of a crispy, chewy crust, salty tomato sauce, and olive oil is perpetual allure on a plate, and I couldn't wait to eat it for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. My mouth is watering just thinking about it!

The food of the (Roman) gods?

A two-hour hop by plane from Paris and a one-hour ferry ride from Naples later, there we were, deep in emphatic-hand-gesture land, surrounded by people who really do shout "mama mia!" with dramatic flair. We worked our way across the island to our funky hotel, where we were booked in a studio that came with a well-equipped kitchen and a spacious patio with room enough for a table, chairs, and giant umbrella to shade us from the fiery summer sun.

Ischia's picturesque port.

The chickens--no, make that roosters--were an unexpected surprise at our seaside lodgings. We might not have known they were there were it not for the round-the-clock cock-a-doodle-dooing. And the resident dog, who had a penchant for barking--loudly and on end--never failed to rouse Fanny into joining the chorus. (We're still debating whether we prefer the domestic barnyard cacophony or the symphony of screaming baby noises that blare night and day back at home.)

Noisy beasts aside, relaxation came easy on Ischia. You can't help but sync with island time when everyone around you is doing the same, and that means taking it easy during the hottest part of the day, swimming, sunning, eating, reading, writing--but definitely not working.  The best way to spend a day or a week or a lifetime on an island in the Mediterranean involves the following, in no particular order:

- eat like locals do, which, in this case, meant anything dressed with perfect, sun-ripened tomatoes

Mama mia! How can something so simple taste so flipping good?

The mobile fruit-and-veg stand near our guest house.

Our local pizzeria, wedged into the rocks next to our favorite beach (which WASN'T the crowded one seen here)

A few varieties of tomatoes at the local market

Homemade lunch on the patio.

- lap up the sunshine until your skin turns a much deeper shade of whatever you had do begin with

A heated game of football on the beach--pun totally intended.

Working on my tan and enjoying the views.

- drink what the locals drink, aka vino rosso e bianco, or elixirs made from artichokes or lemons

(Or, Campari-and-soda sold in little bottles like this)

- take post-siesta strolls through the cobbled pedestrian promenade of the old city center

One of Forio's many squares that come alive at night

One of the town's prettier churches

The evening stroll is an important local ritual

Forio is a study in ochre, terracotta, and sandy white

Pretty heavenly.

- eat pizza with artichokes

Artichokeylicious pizza

I could get used to this

- leap off of slippery sea-rocks into the clear, green, super-salty water

Come swim with me!

This is what 7pm should always look like.

- soak in a pool filled with thermal water from dormant volcanoes

A view over the hot pool to the Ischian mountain tops.

Practicing for a Palm Springs retirement, Italian style.

I loved the hotel's old-school hacienda vibe

- wander into shops and make impulse buys that you will never regret, even if it was a lot of money

Why yes, I did by this awesome vintage sign!

Where's your favorite place to travel? What do you like to do there? What do you eat and drink? Give me inspiration for my next trip!